


The Education of Sybil Ramkin

by MistressParamore



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cross-cultural, Crossover Pairings, Everyone's Gay in College, F/F, F/M, Female Characters, Female Homosexuality, Female Relationships, Powerful women of Potter-Disc, Sam Vimes' Surprise, Sybil's Former Life, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressParamore/pseuds/MistressParamore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Setting: Ankh-Morpork, around the time of MR & Thud. Timeline doesn't apply to HP universe as story takes place on Discworld.</p><p>Summary: Commander Vimes finds an unusual entry in his wife's daintily floral address book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter/Discworld Crossover

**Discworld / Harry Potter X-Over**

**The Education of Sybil Ramkin**

* * *

 

Commander Samuel Vimes wearily trudged into the drawing room of his residence on Scoone Avenue, giving his automatic subconscious grimace at the pink colour scheme. The tiredness melted from his usually scowling face like snow in the morning sun as he saw his beloved wife cradling his baby son at the writing desk in the corner. He quickened his steps, returning his wife's smile as she looked up and saw him. He leaned down to kiss her tenderly, softly stroking his infant son's downy head.

"How was your day, Sam?" Lady Sybil eyed her husband worriedly, noting the weariness in his face.

"The usual drunk, idiot time wasters." Vimes eyed his wife. "And that was before I left the Privy Council."

Sybil stared at her husband.

Vimes raised his hands in a theatrical gesture of defeat.

"Really Sam," Sybil was saying. "You know they're my friends."

"Friends?" Vimes snorted.

Sybil shook her head, smiling slightly at him.

"Sorry. But you know how I feel about those kinds of things."

Sybil covered her mouth with one hand. Vimes, knowing his wife very well indeed, knew that she was hiding a smile behind the disapproving demeanour.

Removing her hand, Sybil twisted in her chair slightly to look at Vimes.

"Dinner should be done shortly, Sam."

Vimes nodded as he leaned over the back of her chair and placed his mouth next to her ear.

"I'm hungry, but not for food..."

Her husband's heated breath on her ear made Sybil shiver. She turned carefully, ensuring Young Sam didn't wake.

"So, what is this hunger for?"

Lady Sybil locked eyes with her husband, seeing the heat rise in the deep brown eyes.

"The kind only you can satisfy," he growled low in his throat as he bent his head to kiss her neck softly.

Lady Sybil stood slowly, gently rocking Young Sam.

"I'll just put Sam down," she whispered. Vimes lightly stroked his slumbering son's cheek, lightly kissing his forehead and smelling the comforting talcum powder baby smell.

"Don't take too long," he whispered back, grinning. Lady Sybil smiled back and blew him a kiss as she left the room.

Vimes stretched and rubbed his face, noticing with a grimace his stubble, and realising that he probably smelled like an Ankh-Morpork street. Definitely not good for seduction. On the other hand, Vimes had noticed that the times when he was sweaty and unshaven, more rough around the edges, were the times when his wife was much more passionate and uninhibited, than when he was, say, the Duke of Ankh. He decided to leave himself as he was and judge Sybil's reaction when she came back downstairs. He idly cast an eye over the davenport his wife had been sitting at, noting the sheafs of parchment and an open address book. For no particular reason other than it was there in his line of sight and he needed something to distract himself from his painfully caged erection, he squinted at his wife's neat entries in the little book.

_Marchingham, Major Thomas and Mrs. Addie. The Turrets, Sto Lat_   
_McGonagall, Minerva. Professor. Hogwarts. Highlands, Scotland._   
_Devant-Molei, Rosie. Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons, A-M_   
_(Also under D)_

Vimes had turned away before his brain caught up with his eyes.  _Scotland_? Geography wasn't Vimes' strong point, but he was sure there was nowhere on the Disc called Scotland. He slowly picked up the little address book and stared again at the strange address, debating whether or not to ask his wife and whether doing so would reveal him to be ignorant or a snoop, or both. He was so engrossed he didn't hear his wife entering the room and wasn't aware of her presence until she placed a hand on his shoulder, startling him so much he dropped the address book with a loud thump on the davenport.

Lady Sybil chuckled at her husband's surprise.

"What are you doing Sam?" Sybil asked affectionately, sliding her hands across Vimes' chest and smiling as she felt his stomach crunch reactively.

"Um..." Vimes fought through the fog of arousal his wife was creating as she leaned closer and kissed him lightly, pressing her huge chest against him and deepening the kiss slowly as she slid her hands deftly underneath his now untucked shirt.

Giving up any pretence at coherent thought, Vimes gripped his wife tightly around her hips and pulled her as close to him as possible, eliciting a small moan from Sybil that thrilled him. Vimes captured her lips in another kiss, lightly nibbling her lower lip. Sybil ran her hands back up his chest and neck, making him shiver, and tangled her fingers in his thick brown hair as she aggressively kissed him back.

Lady Sybil couldn't explain it, even to herself. But something about Sam undid her, every time she saw those expressive brown eyes, or even just thought about him.

... _about that lean, muscled body, about the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed, about the way perspiration trickled down the long planes of his body, the way the muscles in his forearms flexed as he held her, about the way his breath hitched as she touched him, the way his eyes smouldered when he looked at her..._

Something very primal in Lady Sybil drove her on, her need growing by the second. She bit her lower lip as she pulled back, locking gazes with her husband. Her face was flushed with passion and her chocolate eyes were sparkling with raw desire, her rosy lips were swollen and slightly parted as she panted breathlessly. Wordlessly, she pressed herself hard against her husband.

"I need you Sam," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Vimes felt his brain cells begin to fuse together.

_Tomorrow, I will ask tomorrow..._

* * *

**Comments always appreciated...**


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Vimes lay awake staring at the ceiling of their bedroom, a smile adorning his usually thunderous and scowling countenance. On his shoulder, one arm thrown around his waist, Lady Sybil murmured in her sleep, unconsciously burrowing her face deeper into his neck.

Vimes smile widened. His heart - that bruised and battered organ that he had tried to kill with alcohol - had swelled back into life with Sybil, and although he would never admit it, moments of such simple tenderness as this were ones that he treasured. The simple skin-on-skin contact, the warmth and solidity of another person, the feeling of  _not being alone_.

Funny, he mused to himself, eyes tracing the elegant lines of the coving on the ceiling, no matter how much he drank, no matter how much of a stupor he fell into, something had kept him safe enough to reach the point of realisation. They say that about alcoholics don't they? That the best thing you can do is to leave them to their drink and to reach rock bottom, because they can't be helped any other way. How true that was. It was when he reached rock bottom that his help came…

 _Mind you_ , his mind supplied,  _you weren't rich enough to be an alcoholic...you were just a plain drunk_...

He glanced back down at his sleeping wife. Round 2 was looking damned attractive right now, but he was loathe to wake her just for that. Instead he found himself mulling over the address book again. He had never heard Sybil mention this Minerva woman, he was positive she hadn't been at their wedding and there had never been any Hogswatch cards from her, whoever she was. Although the copious cards were Sybil's domain, she always made sure Vimes knew just who had sent them, and with a name like Minerva he would have remembered.

A faint murmur made him look back down. Lady Sybil was sleepily smiling up at him, cheek still resting on his shoulder.

She snuggled even closer to him, wrapping her legs around his and dropped a soft kiss to his shoulder.

"Mmmm," she murmured as she raised her head slightly, returning his reactive smile with a deep kiss.

"Now  _this_  is the way to wake up," he said slightly breathlessly when she pulled away.

"No," she whispered against his lips, " _this_  is the way to wake up," as she disappeared underneath the blankets and down his body. For the second time that evening, Vimes' thoughts disappeared as his world exploded in pleasure.

* * *

Lady Sybil rolled over as a sound awoke her from her snooze. Sam was closing the bedroom door behind him by nudging it with his bare foot, his hands being occupied with holding two glasses. He looked up and saw she was awake, a guilty look immediately flashing across his face. Lady Sybil smiled affectionately.

"I'm sorry if I woke you dear," he began.

"Sam," Lady Sybil murmured sitting up. "I'm glad I'm awake. It means I get to spend more uninterrupted time with you."

Her hands were deftly untying the cord of his dressing gown and pulling it down his shoulder. She softly kissed each piece of skin she uncovered, and manoeuvred herself so she was kneeling behind him, kissing gently across the back of his neck. The feeling of her bare breasts pressing against his now also bare back meant that the drinks he was holding were in serious danger of tipping over the bed.

He turned around smiling adoringly at his wife. He motioned slightly with the glasses in his hands, indicating that she should take one.

She pouted at being disturbed from her task, but the twinkle in her eyes indicated that she wasn't serious. Vimes scooted up the bed and leaned against the pillows, Lady Sybil leaning slightly against him, and he lightly covered them with a blanket as they enjoyed the cool drinks he had brought.

"Sybil?" Vimes said after a moment.

"Hmmm?"

"You know earlier, when you'd just put Sam down to sleep…" Vimes trailed off.  _This sounds ridiculous!_

Lady Sybil raised her head slightly.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Sam," she sounded puzzled.

"Well, I was by your writing desk, I picked up the address book and, well, who's Minerva?"

In his mind, Vimes was covering his face in horror.  _You're_ _ **interrogating**_ _your_ _ **wife**_ _?_

It was possibly the only time in his life that Vimes had seen Lady Sybil speechless. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She opened it again, changed her mind, coughed and finally said, "well, I wasn't expecting that," somewhat weakly.

"What is it, Sybil?"

A nameless dread had begun to coil hotly in his gut. Lady Sybil was not a woman for secrets, or deception of any kind. Finding something unexplainable about her was nothing short of worrying. She was Vimes' anchor in the unstable and murky world of law enforcement that he inhabited. Having his anchor wobble like this made him panic.

Lady Sybil reached over the side of the bed and picked up her dressing gown.

"I think I owe you an explanation, Sam."

* * *

_**Comments? Only one more chapter.** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Vimes finds an unusual entry in his wife's daintily floral address book....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicised text indicates a flashback.

Vimes tried to quell the growing feeling of unease in his stomach as he watched Lady Sybil seat herself back against the pillows. The minute or 2 she had spent pulling her dressing gown on and settling back down on the bed had given her time to recompose herself, even though Vimes could still see a trace of tension. Her soft brown eyes flickered upwards and she gave him a small smile, trying to reassure him.

"I haven't thought about _that_ , about _her_ , in years," Lady Sybil said softly. She leaned back on the pillows and sighed. "I'm still not sure, even now..."

Her voice trailed off.

"About what?" Vimes tried not to sound too anxious. He knew he wasn't going to be winning any awards for most sensitive husband, but he could see that this was not very easy for Sybil.

"About what...what... _it_...actually was," she said eventually, cheeks going red. She chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she watched a sequence of emotions pass over her husbands face - shock, surprise, incredulity, disbelief. He swallowed as he reached forward and picked up one of her hands resting on her lap, running his thumb over her knuckles.

"I'm guessing this was a long time ago?" He asked into the silence.

Lady Sybil nodded.

"I was at college," she smiled weakly.

Vimes smiled reassuringly at his wife. "It's easy to forget that we both had lived a life before we even met," he murmured, thinking of some of his own experiences with a sense of shame. But still... _Sybil_? With a _woman_? What could have made Sybil embark on such an affair? Sensing the need for silence, Vimes waited patiently for his wife to speak.

"I hadn't long been in Quirm, at the College for Young Ladies. A school to teach you how to be a society wife." Sybil smiled wryly and, somewhat unusually for her, a trace bitterly.

"In some ways, despite the elitist curriculum, it was quite innovative. One of their newer ideas was bringing in an external professor of comparative magic. At that time the Unseen University had discovered other, magical existences, parallel realities if you will. One of them had a very high build up of thaumic energy, but no signs of any dangerous flare ups, so they investigated. My headmistress was the sister of one of the wizards working on it at the time, and she was also very interested in sciences so we had regular updates about this particular project. To cut a complicated story short, they discovered a magical community, a place where the two worlds passed very close together and you could literally step across. Some of the wizards looked closer at this particular region and worked out how to physically move across. I don't understand it myself, but apparently it wasn't as hard as you might think. We already live amongst magic, after all."

Sybil sighed and took another drink, twirling the glass in her hands as Vimes tried to process what Sybil had just said. _Another world_? Vimes knew very little about the magic of the world in which he inhabited, but this sounded quite fantastical. He mentally shook his head so he could concentrate on Sybil as she continued speaking in a low voice.

"Anyway, they discovered another magical seat of learning, but for children. Anyone who shows an ability to do magic there can gain a place at this school to become a witch or wizard. It is this place, Hogwarts School, where _she_... _Minerva_...comes from."

Sybil's voice faltered slightly. Vimes had a thought that something quite seriously upsetting must have happened for Sybil to be affected like this after all this time. His brow furrowed. He didn't like the thought of anyone upsetting Sybil, even if it _was_ before he had met her.

"Minerva was the headmistress there, I believe she still is. Witches and wizards there live a much longer life than here."

Lady Sybil stared down at their joined hands for so long Vimes thought that she wasn't to speak any further. After a few minutes she raised her head and gave him a long, loving look before leaning forward and kissing him softly, gently running her lips across his stubbled cheek before pulling back. Vimes smiled back at her, feeling his lips and cheek tingle from her contact, as Sybil drew a deep breath to continue.

* * *

_The Honourable Sybil Ramkin repressed a groan as she dutifully took her seat in the light classroom for the first lesson of the day. The 18 year old young woman couldn't wait for this school year to be over and she could leave_ _**this** _ _behind. Of course she would stay in touch with her contemporaries, to not do so was unthinkable, but she wouldn't count any of them as a close friend. She had a nasty suspicion that she didn't like any of the same things as her friends and that she was different to most of her contemporaries._

_Take Ronnie Rust, for example. By all accounts a_ _**very** _ _good catch, one of the few old families that still retained both its money and status. Indeed he had been making a few social calls on her father of late, and Sybil knew precisely what the content of those late night chats were. She also knew she would have absolutely no truck with it, Ronnie Rust or not. At heart Sybil was a practical girl. She knew it wasn't for herself Ronnie was expressing interest, he wanted the_ _**'right'** _ _marriage, one where the provenance was ancient and glorious and the money still flowed; the Ramkins ticked both, often several times, even if it meant having Sybil into the bargain. What upset her was that no one was bothered about what she wanted. She was discussed and decided upon without any consultation, as if she was an animal or piece of meat, to do the right thing and uphold one's place in society. Sybil wasn't denying the reality of her situation, but she didn't want this._ _**Wouldn't** _ _have this. A lifetime of virtual servitude in her social class through virtue of being female and the expectation that she would do nothing more than marry and breed had crystallised her desire to do no such thing. If a man wanted to marry her, it had to be because she was Sybil, not the Honourable Sybil Ramkin. She didn't know how she would ensure this was so, but she wouldn't settle for anything else. If nothing else in her world was real, she could at least ensure that her marriage was._

_The classroom door opening jerked her into wakefulness and the class of girls obediently rose to their feet chorusing in a singsong voice, "Good morning Headmistress Lumley," as the tall, statuesque brunette strode inside. What drew the girls' attention however, was the woman behind the headmistress. Tall, slender, commanding and regal looking, wearing a close fitting dark green robe with a tall witches hat above a dark brown bun, the woman looked appraisingly at the class of girls with piercing green eyes behind square spectacles. Sybil found the unknown woman fascinating. Something about the woman made her feel that not only was the woman a stranger to the college, but possibly came from a long way away. She moved as if she wasn't beholden by the same laws of physics as everyone else, as if time and space were an optional extra rather than a fundamental necessity._

_"Girls, I'd like you to welcome Professor Minerva McGonagall."_

_Again, the girls dutifully chorused their greeting._

_"Good morning Professor McGonagall."_

_"You may be seated," Headmistress Lumley informed the class, as Professor McGonagall nodded her head curtly to the greeting. The Headmistress waited for the sound of scraping chairs and whispering to subside before speaking again._

" _Professor McGonagall has joined us from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to lecture in Comparative Magic."_

_The Headmistress swept her eyes around the room, daring the girls to contradict this idea._

" _We are very fortunate to have this opportunity. Professor McGonagall's presence here has only just been made possible by scientific breakthrough by the wizards at Unseen University."_

_Sybil wondered if she was the only person who had noticed how the new Professor's lips twitched at this introduction, or that she had a wand concealed by her side._

_Somewhat tantalisingly, the Headmistress broke off her introduction and stepped backwards so that the new Professor could step forwards._

" _Good morning girls." The Professor spoke with a clipped accent that was difficult to place and that Sybil did not think she had ever heard before – and her family was well travelled. She frowned as the woman continued speaking._

" _I dare say you would like to know a little bit about me," Professor McGonagall tapped her free hand with her wand. The eyes of most of the girls were riveted to the slightly hypnotic motion of the strip of wood. Sybil's eyes were glued to the angular lines of the woman's face._

" _I will give you one brief introduction and that is all. My name, as your Headmistress has said, is Minerva McGonagall and I am Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland." She paused as the class full of girls stared back with rapt attention. "Scotland is not on the Discworld, it is on a different world from this. More parallel. Magic evolved slightly differently to here – the world itself isn't magical as the Discworld is, but there is residual magic that lives in a parallel state to the non-magical folk. The magical world is concealed from the non-magical world and the two do not mix generally. Magic is contained in individuals. Some of these individuals are from non-magical parents, this does not matter, they are still schooled in our magical places of education. This is unlike here where being a wizard is something arcane and only attainable by the very priviliged few. All who show signs of magic are accepted. I teach transfiguration." She stared at the girls who were gazing back at her, transfixed._

_"Can anyone guess what transfiguration is?"_

_Professor McGonagall briskly paced across the classroom, taking in the rows of students, none of whom were volunteering. The only girl who didn't look slightly stunned was a plump, pretty young woman sitting a couple of rows from the front, and who was training a pair of intelligent brown eyes upon her as she paced. The girl seemed curious rather than surprised or bewildered, unlike her classmates. Professor McGonagall guessed she was a lot more intelligent than her classmates too, who, if they had been at Hogwarts, would quite possibly have all ended up in the over-priviliged Slytherin House._

_Professor McGonagall stopped in front of Sybil._

" _What's your name, young lady?"_

_The girl rose to her feet._

" _Sybil Ramkin, Professor McGonagall."_

_At the Professor's nod, Sybil sat back down._

" _Can you guess what transfiguration is, Miss Ramkin?"_

_Professor McGonagall watched as the girl pressed her lips together in concentration._

" _Is it..." she trailed off and muttered to herself, "transform, transfigure, changing something..." she looked back up at the waiting Professor. "Changing something to something else?"_

_Professor McGonagall gave the girl a slight nod._

" _Good work, Miss Ramkin."_

_Her green eyes stayed for a few seconds upon Sybil before whirling round on her heel back to the front of the class. Out of the corner of her eye Sybil saw her Headmistress looking at her with a small smile before turning her attention back to the Professor. Sybil felt strangely warm, a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. The professor's green eyes, every time she saw them, seemed to make her feel a rush of incredible heat. She swallowed hard as her intelligent mind analysed this new development._ _**Women** _ _?!_

* * *

_**Comments?** _

_**I underestimated the chapters. This isn't the last one...** _


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